


Say You Feel The Same

by fiddleyoumust



Category: Clean Bandit (Band), Years & Years (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil has a new neighbour and he's the fittest person Neil has ever laid eyes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say You Feel The Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/gifts).



> This is for the lovely Alison. I loved all of your prompts and I spent most of the time I should have been writing waffling about which one I was going to fill. I might still try to finish some of the others I've started. The prompt I ultimately chose was:
> 
> AU: Olly is an out-of-work actor and Neil is an out-of-work musician and they live in a shitty building in flats next to each other. The walls are thin and they can hear each other doing adult-type things and maybe they get off on it as they listen. And then they run into each other in the hall and get all blushy because of all the things they’ve heard. (This can be one-sided, whichever POV you’d like!) And then there’s a power outage and they end up spending the evening together (maybe one of them doesn’t own candles, I don’t know) and they hook up!
> 
> This ended up being a lot of feelings and not nearly enough wanking off to each other through a wall. I'm very sorry. I hope you like it anyway!!
> 
> Many thanks to Emmy for Brit pick and Erica for the beta. You're both rock stars.

A sound like a shot wakes Neil from a dead sleep. He jolts up in a panic, heart racing,brain tripping over itself trying to make sense of the noise that has dragged him from sleep when he hears it again -- the loud _THUNK_ of something slamming against the wall his room shares with the flat next door. He’s not especially close to his neighbours. They’re nice enough fellows. One of them is a barman at a pub down the street and the other is some kind of theatre actor who always looks as if he’s playing the role of a dapper gentleman from the 50s. But the room Neil shares a wall with has been empty as long as Neil’s lived here -- although it’s only been 3 months. 

Everything goes silent for a moment; it’s quiet enough that Neil hears only the sounds from the street through his window and his own breath, coming slightly faster than usual. The silence lasts a few heart beats and then the thud comes again, followed by a low moan. 

Even through the wall, Neil knows what kind of moan it is. It’s definitely not a ‘damn I just slammed my head against a wall -- twice -- and need a trip to A&E’ moan. It’s more an ‘I picked someone up at the club and I’m fucking him against the wall -- or letting him fuck me against the wall’ moan. Neil’s dragged enough of those moans out of people to be able to recognise the sounds of sex when it’s happening right next to him. 

Whoever it is, they sound like they’re enjoying themselves. Neil gives a fleeting thought to enjoying himself too, but it’s definitely creepy to wank to your neighbours sex noises. Even if they’re really good sex noises. Neil sighs and gets out of bed instead.

Grace is never asleep this early unless she’s got a gig, and she would have mentioned that over the curry they’d shared earlier. Neil barges into her room without knocking, earning himself a glare when Grace looks up from where she’s spread out on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Will you ever learn to knock?” she asks.

Neil shrugs and flops down next to her, burying his face in the side of her breast.

“Someone’s moved into the room next to mine and they’re getting lucky,” Neil whines. “I’ve not had a good fuck in a month at least and I’m jealous of anyone currently having orgasms.”

“Go down the street and pick someone up,” Grace says. “You’re the fittest person I’ve ever seen not in a magazine.”

“I did a modeling gig once at uni,” Neil says, lifting his head enough to give Grace a smug look. “So technically I have also been in a magazine, even if it was only a uni publication.

“See? Just mosey down to that bar on the corner and pick someone up,” Grace says, walking her fingers along Neil’s arm like two tiny legs. “They’ll all be gagging to take you home.”

Neil doesn’t even contemplate it. Going out is exhausting and expensive and Neil’s not got the energy or the money for it right now. He misses the days when he and Grace could use each other to scratch this type of itch. Six months ago he could have come crawling into her bed and it would have ended with both of them sweaty and satisfied, but Grace went and fell in love with a very nice lad called Jack last spring, and now the “fuck” has been permanently removed from their buddy status. 

“I’m not in the mood. I’ve already put my joggers on, too. Can’t be seen out in these,” Neil says very practically. 

“Well, go back to yours and have a wank then. Let me finish sexting with Jack. We were just getting to the good bit,” Grace says, shoving ineffectually at Neil’s shoulder while he makes gagging noises into the mattress.

People in relationships are disgusting. Neil is never having one.

“I can’t wank to our neighbour’s sex noises. It’s… uncouth or something.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Grace asks and Neil wants to be offended, but she does have a point. He’s gotten off with blokes in dirty club bathrooms while listening to other men doing the same in the cubicles next door. This probably isn’t any different and it’s definitely more sanitary. 

Neil gets up, extricates himself from Grace’s covers with as much dignity as he can muster, and heads back to his room. Grace’s laughter follows him down the hall. 

~~~~

Neil runs into Dapper Theatre Guy two days later as he’s trying to unlock the door to his flat while balancing three bags of shopping all at once.

“Here let me help you,” Neil says, turning off his music and removing an earbud. He holds out his hands helpfully.

Dapper Theatre Guy looks him over once and hands him two of the bags.

“One of my flatmates is home but he’s not answering,” Dapper Theatre Guy says, jiggling his keys until he finds the one he needs to slide into the lock. “He’s either sleeping or showering, or he’s just a lazy sod.”

“Is this the one with the beard?” Neil asks. “I know we’ve met, but I don’t actually remember any of your names. You’re Dapper Theatre Guy and there’s the one with the beard who works at the bar down the street.”

“He’s called Mikey,” Dapper Theatre Guy says, jiggling his keys . “I also have a beard and I’m called James. The sleeping or showering or sodding lazy one is called Olly. He’s new.”

Neil blushes a bit at that, shifting the bags James just handed him and trying his best not to look like a creep who may or may not have recently wanked off to Dapper Theatre G-- err James’ flatmate Olly’s sex noises. 

They step through the door together and Neil stops in his tracks, clutching the bags close to his chest, eyes fixed on a skinny boy singing and dancing in the middle of the lounge area. He’s even pushed the sofa and table out of the way to give himself more room, and he’s got moves, dropping down so low his arse practically bounces on the floor before he pops up again to sway his hips back and forth.

He’s dressed like he’s trying to pull at a club, wearing slim trousers and a baggy sleeveless top with a stretched out neck that shows off his shoulders and the pale length of his neck. Neil’s mind wanders for a full five seconds over that neck before his eyes move on to the unruly mop of brown curls on the boy’s head. 

The boy hasn’t noticed either of them yet. He’s too immersed in what he’s doing, shaking his arse and singing Rihanna’s S&M with a breathy but lovely voice. Neil’s mouth actually starts to water. James seems completely unbothered by the dance party going on in his lounge, so Neil shakes his head, forces himself to stop staring, and follows James toward the kitchen. The boy yelps, having finally noticed him, and pulls his earbuds out of his ears, staring at Neil, wide-eyed and with his hand over his chest like a startled maiden. 

“Hello,” the boy says. “I like your shirt.”

Neil looks down at his leopard print Adidas t-shirt and says, “Thanks. I got it in Japan,” before internally cringing at how completely unsmooth he is. For all the shags he’s had in his life, he really should be better at impressing extremely beautiful, flexible men who are exactly his type.

“Cool,” the boy says. “I’m Olly, and I’m going to assume there is shopping in those bags and you haven’t broken in with bags full of weapons you plan on using to murder me?”

Olly has a really beautiful smile, which is probably not the detail Neil should be noticing when he’s being accused of possibly being a serial killer. He’s trying to think of something witty to say back, something impressive enough that Olly might, at some point soon, consider making out heavily with him, but James pops out of the kitchen and ruins any clever response he might have thought up.

“He’s our neighbour,” James says. “Came to my rescue because my areshole flatmate was too busy shaking his arse to Rihanna to open the door for me.”

Olly has the decency to look a bit guilty but he gets over it quickly, asking, “Does our neighbour have a name?” His eyes glance over Neil in a way that cannot be mistaken for anything but what it is.

Olly is definitely checking him out. 

“I’m Neil,” Neil says. “Sorry about that. I’m usually better at this.”

Olly bites his bottom lip, which makes something in Neil’s stomach go hot and swoopy. He’s criminally attracted to Olly, and Olly seems to know exactly what to do to make it worse. It probably doesn’t hurt that Neil knows exactly how enthusiastic Olly is when he’s being fucked because now that Neil’s had a look at him there’s no doubt it was Olly’s skinny frame being slammed against the other side of the wall earlier this week. 

“Usually better at what?” Olly asks, not breaking eye contact.

It’s as if there’s some sort of spell between them, as if they’re saying more with their eyes and quirks of their eyebrows than they are with their mouths, but the magic evaporates when James says, “Give me those bags before the two of you fuck on my yogurt and bran flakes.”

Neil forgot he was still holding the shopping bags. Frankly, he forgot James was still in the room. He’s reminded now as Olly’s cheeks flush with colour and he looks down at his feet with a mortified expression on his face.

“I should... “ Olly mumbles, waving his hand toward the direction James has gone off with the bags of fruit and veg.

“Right, I should be going as well,” Neil says, trying his best not to sound disappointed. 

He isn’t ready to let Olly get away from him. He wants to know more. He wants to look at his face a little longer so he can try to figure out why he never wants to stop looking at it. Instead, he makes his way toward the front door to let himself out.

“Neil?” Olly says, stopping him before he turns the handle.

When Neil looks back Olly’s biting his lip again, and yeah -- this is definitely going to be a problem.

“Yeah?” Neil asks.

“We’re having a house party Saturday. Kind of welcoming me to the house, you know? Would you want to come? You don’t have to! Or you can bring someone, like I don’t know if you’re seeing anyone or if you, like, live with someone or anything...” Olly trails off lamely and Neil makes a mental note to remember how adorable Olly is when he’s nervous and rambling.

“I do live with someone, but she sleeps in her own room and is dating a fine fellow called James,” Neil says, smiling at Olly only partly to put him at ease. Neil can’t help himself. “I’d love to come to your party.”

“Your flatmate can come too, if she wants,” Olly says, beaming at him with that brilliant smile again, all gap-toothed sunshine. 

“I’ll ask her and see you on Saturday,” Neil says, reaching behind him for the front door handle.

Olly nods once and waves before he turns back to the kitchen. Neil lets himself out.

~~~

Neil agonises over what he should wear. He really wants to wear one of his mesh tops to show off his exceptionally toned abs, but it’s a house party, not a rave. He doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard.

“Whatever you choose, make sure you know where you got it so you can use that as an opening line,” Grace says, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

“You’re mean,” Neil tells her, tossing yet another rejected top onto his bed. “I’m sorry I ever told you that.”

Neil is nervous enough without Grace reminding him how clumsy he was meeting Olly for the first time. He’s never wanted to impress someone this much before, has never been this uncertain about whether or not he can pull it off. It’s remarkably easy to be confident when you don’t care one way or another if the other person wants you back.

He wants Olly to want him back. 

“I’m really enjoying this,” Grace says. “I know I’m terrible, but this is so fun.”

Neil sticks his tongue out at her and flips her off. He needs her help. Even though she’s an arsehole, she’s also his best friend. 

“I think I might want to ask him out… like for a date,” Neil says nervously, shooting Grace a sideways glance as he tears off yet another top.

Grace’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head and she stares at him for a few seconds before she says, “Wear the black mesh. You look like sin in it. If he doesn’t want to date you after seeing you in that… well, I don’t approve of you dating stupid boys anyway.”

Neil puts on the black mesh.

~~~~

By the time Neil arrives with Grace on his arm, the party is in full swing. The bearded one, Mikey, answers the door and stares at Neil and Grace quizzically for a moment before he nods and says, “You’re our fit neighbor! Come in.”

Neil blushes, not at the compliment, really, but at the idea that Olly’s been talking about him. He feels a bit delicate about Olly. He hasn’t seen Olly since that first day in the flat, and he’s already thinking about when he might get to see him again. That hope is unexpected and fragile, and Neil wants to protect it.

Grace says, “Thanks, I’m Neil’s fitter flatmate. And you are?” She slides between Neil and Mkey, completely taking the focus away from Neil and allowing him to slip past them into the house.

Neil makes a mental note to treat Grace to dinner, wine, and a bubble bath he may or may not be able to convince her to share with him. 

In the lounge, at least thirty people are mingling in various clusters. Neil sees James with a group who cannot be mistaken for anything other than theatre people, but he doesn’t see Olly among them. He keeps scanning the room. 

He’s just starting to panic, thinking maybe Olly’s not here, even though he knows Olly _lives_ here and would definitely be present for a house party in his honour, when he hears his name being called in a chirpy, familiar voice.

When he turns, he notices two things at once: the first is that Olly is most definitely drunk. There’s a drink in each of his hands and he looks flushed and slightly unfocused. The grace Neil had seen in his dancing the other day is seriously lacking now. 

The second thing he notices is that Olly is not alone. A tallish bloke, maybe an inch or two taller than Neil, has a possessive hand on Olly’s hip and is currently giving Neil a look that is clearly a warning. 

“Hi, you came!” Olly says, coming to a stop in front of Neil and stepping slightly sideways so tall bloke has to remove his hand from Olly’s hip or allow his arm to stretch awkwardly to stay connected. 

“I came,” Neil says, looking uncertainly between the two. 

He’s not sure what kind of vibe he’s getting. The bloke’s body language is clearly possessive, but Olly seems genuinely happy to see him. It’s possible he misunderstood Olly’s intentions, but Neil doesn’t think so.

“You alright?” Neil asks, eyes flicking dismissively over the other guy. 

He wants to wrap an arm around Olly’s waist and stare this guy down until he gets lost, but he isn’t Olly’s boyfriend, he doesn’t really know Olly, and he’s got no claim here. He’s starting to understand he wants it. He wants to be the only person getting Olly’s attention. He’s rabid and possessive and all over a boy he hasn’t even kissed yet.

“I’m good,” Olly says right as tall bloke clears his throat and steps back in, saying, “I’m Vincent. How do you know Olls?” 

Olly laughs tightly and says, “Oh god. I’m so rude, yeah,” as he looks between them. “This is Vincent. He’s my -- my friend and this is Neil, my neighbour.”

Neil’s had enough “friends” to understand the score. He’s not interested in sharing Olly with a “friend” tonight. Even if his gut tells him Olly’s more interested in talking to him than to Vincent, it’s clear Vincent won’t make it easy for them.

“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Neil says to Vincent, taking the two drinks still clutched in Olly’s hands and shoving them at Vincent.

He gives him little choice but to grab the drinks or let them fall to the floor and then he takes Olly by the hand without waiting to see how Vincent reacts. He wasn’t really asking anyway.

He winds them through the party, pulling Olly inside a bedroom at the end of the hall.

“How did you know this was me?” Olly asks, closing the door behind them.

Neil wasn’t certain, but their places are laid out exactly the same only backwards. This is where his room would be inside his flat.

“I’m on the other side of the wall,” Neil says, cocking his head toward their shared wall.

“Do you play the violin?” Olly asks, biting his lip nervously, eyes slightly averted. “I think I hear you sometimes through the wall.”

“Yes,” Neil says. Then he presses Olly against the door and kisses him. 

Olly moans for him and kisses him back immediately, touching Neil’s neck lightly before his fingers settle at the back of Neil’s head and twist in Neil’s curls. It hurts, but Neil likes it. He feels grounded by the pain, He nips at Olly’s mouth, biting sharply into his plush bottom lip and hopes Olly feels grounded too. 

Olly’s face is soft under his fingertips. Neil presses his fingers to Olly’s jaw, holding him where he wants him with his red, wet mouth open and his neck exposed. Neil’s been fantasizing about that neck for days and he doesn’t waste any time, dipping his head to the pale, tender skin over Olly’s pulse point and sucking hard.

“Oh god,” Olly says, but he presses Neil closer and tips his head back further, giving Neil all the room he needs to make a mess of Olly’s throat. 

Neil bruises him with his mouth, sucking at the skin until it’s mottled red in several spots before he returns to kiss Olly’s mouth again. He wants to take Olly right here, drop to his knees and suck Olly’s cock, make Olly scream for him until both their throats are bruised and sore, but he keeps coming back around to that tender spot in his chest, the one that’s reminding him to proceed with caution.

He wants Olly badly, but he doesn’t want their first time to be at a house party where Olly’s drunk and vulnerable and one of his exes is skulking around looking for a way back in. 

The way Olly’s clinging to him gives him the strength to slow things down. Whatever’s going on between them isn’t one-sided -- Olly clearly wants him just as badly, and Neil plans to keep him wanting until they can do this properly. He gentles his kisses and presses his thumb into one of the bruises on Olly’s throat, kisses the corner of Olly’s mouth and then his chin before taking a shaky step back to admire his work.

Olly opens his eyes slowly, blinking and running his tongue along his bottom lip. Neil hopes he still tastes both of them there. He looks thoroughly debauched, mouth red and wet, his breath heavy enough to make the rise and fall of his chest noticeable. His neck is a mess of red bruises in the shape of Neil’s mouth.

“I want you to fuck me,” Olly says, his eyes focused intently on Neil. 

Neil closes his eyes and breathes deep. He’s so incredibly turned on just from kissing and his dick is completely on board. 

“I want to take you out on a proper date first,” Neil says. He smiles softly, trying to cushion the blow of rejection because he’s been where Olly is, wanting something and being denied. Even when it makes sense, the rejection still stings. 

Olly laughs at him. He rolls his eyes and says, “You don’t have to buy me dinner. I’m a sure thing.”

The way he says it makes Neil feel ugly and angry. Olly has no fucking idea how beautiful he is and Neil wants to kill whoever made him think he wasn’t worth dinner and a conversation before sex. Neil hopes he’s never made any of his hookups feel that way.

“Do you not want to go out with me?” Neil asks because it’s still possible he’s got this wrong. He doesn’t think so.

“I… no. That’s not it,” Olly says uncertainly. “I just meant you don’t _have_ to. I’d let you fuck me now.”

Olly’s hand flutters nervously to the back of his neck and he looks genuinely confused. Neil’s amazed at how quickly he’s managed to take one of the most erotic moments of his life and completely fuck it up.

He does the only thing he can think of and kisses Olly again, hard but quick, and says, “I want you so much, but not when you’ve had too much to drink and your wanker ex is down the hall wondering where you’ve got to.”

“Vincent and I aren’t a thing,” Olly says. “I don’t want him.”

The implied “I want you” is loud and clear. Neil breathes a bit easier. 

“That’s good, baby,” Neil says, stroking Olly’s throat again. He doesn’t want to stop touching him. “I don’t want you thinking about anyone but me until I see you again.”

“When will that be?” Olly asks as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back like a contented cat having its chin rubbed

“Tomorrow night? I have a gig but it’s early. I can be done and home by half seven. I’ll take you for a late dinner,” Neil says.

Olly frowns and makes a frustrated noise. “I have a production the next few weeks. I won’t be out until after ten every night except Mondays.”

Neil hadn’t realised Olly was one of James’s theatre people, but it doesn’t surprise him. Olly is so expressive, he can easily imagine him on a stage under bright lights pretending to be someone else. Neil wants to see him do it and he doesn’t want to wait until Monday to go out.

“Give me your phone,” Neil says. Olly fishes it out of his pocket immediately,unlocks it, and hands it over.

Neil adds himself as a contact and rings himself before handing it back.

“Text me the address of your show and I’ll pick you up tomorrow after you get out,” he says. “I’ll buy you a kebab.”

Olly starts tapping at his phone immediately and Neil feels the buzz of an incoming text in his back pocket. 

“It’ll have to be a vegetarian kebab. I don’t eat meat,” Olly says, looking up to smile at him.

Every time he learns a new piece of information about Olly it’s like another piece of a puzzle falling into place. Neil can’t quite see what the big picture is yet, but he’s excited to figure out how the pieces fit together. He wants to know more about Olly. He might keep wanting to know more until he knows everything. It’s awesome but also big and scary. Neil has no idea what he’s doing.

“Tomorrow then?” Neil says, taking a breath and leaping into the unknown. “A veggie kebab at half ten?”

“Yeah,” Olly says. “And if you’re a gentleman maybe I’ll let you walk me home.”

Neil kisses him one more time because he can’t not and because he doesn’t want to leave yet, but he has to. 

“Walk me out,” Neil says and grabs Olly’s hand again, an inverse of earlier -- only now Neil feels slow and languid instead of urgent and frenzied.

They hold hands all the way to the front door, past a few catcalls and whistles, past Grace rolling her eyes where she’s sat chatting with Mikey and some fit guy in square rimmed glasses, past Vincent whose eyes don’t look away from Olly’s neck. 

At the door Olly says, “Goodnight, Neil,” and kisses him lightly on the mouth.

Neil says, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and goes back to his flat in a daze. 

In his room he lies down, tries to put a name to what he’s feeling, and spends too much time feeling nostalgic for things that are gone. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this euphoric and hopeful.

A few minutes later he hears a light _tap tap tap_ on the wall. He smiles before tapping back.

“Goodnight, Olly,” Neil whispers, and then he sleeps. 

~~~~

Performing always makes Neil feel a bit giddy. It’s like getting drunk on champagne but without the terrible headache the following morning. He comes off stage full of energy and excitement, only this time he thinks it has more to do with knowing he’ll be seeing Olly soon than with the killer performance he and Grace just gave. 

“We’re going out for a pint. Grace wants you to come with us,” Jack says, slinging one of his skinny arms over Neil’s shoulder. 

Neil likes Jack because he’s supportive and he adores Grace, but he would rather be held down and tickled for twenty-four hours than spend an evening at the pub watching Jack and Grace flirt. Besides, he’s got a date he doesn’t plan on missing. 

“I’ve got other plans,” Neil says right as Grace appears at his side and asks, “What plans?”

“I’m meeting Olly,” Neil says, which Grace already knows because Neil literally hasn’t shut up about it since this morning.

“That’s hours yet, isn’t it?” Grace asks as they make their way out of the recital hall and push through throngs of people dressed in suits and silk dresses. 

Neil loves playing the violin and he loves classical music, but he cannot stand wearing a suit. He and Grace have always talked about doing something different and fun with their own music, but it’s hard to write and record an album when they can barely afford to pay their rent. 

Which is why he feels sheepish telling Grace he’s gone and spent twenty pounds on a ticket to see Olly’s show tonight. He debated texting Olly and letting him know as well, but he has finally settled on surprising him. It had seemed romantic this morning, but now he’s starting to wonder if it’s a bit weird.

“I bought a ticket to Olly’s play,” Neil confesses. “I was going for romantic, but now I’m worried it’s creepy.”

Grace raises one well manicured eyebrow and says, “Romantic? You really like this one, don’t you?”

Neil shrugs and looks away. He understands her surprise. She’s never seen him like this before because he’s never been like this before. He’s never liked anyone enough to want to put in the effort, and there’s a practical part of his brain that keeps setting off alarm bells about how quickly he’s decided Olly’s worth it.

They still don’t know anything about each other, but Neil supposes that’s enough of a difference right there. He’s never cared to know anything about any of his previous partners. It’s always been about sex before…and while he is fully in lust with Olly, there’s something more here as well.

“Oh God, I really do like him,” Neil says and bends over to suck in a few deep breaths.

Grace puts a hand on his back and pats him twice, but her tone is less than sympathetic when she says, “There, there. You’ll survive.”

She’s clearly not taking this seriously. What if he falls in love? What if he’s already in love? He doesn’t even know what love is.

“Oh God,” Neil says again, wailing to some higher being he doesn’t even believe in.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Grace says, but she sounds affectionate and actually stops to rub his back in a soothing way. “It’s only a date, Neil. If it goes tits up you never have to see him again. Except he lives in our building… but don’t think about that!”

Neil decides right then and there that he needs new friends.

~~~

Olly’s play is some weird dystopian thing where Olly plays a teenage orphan. He looks the part too, impossibly young and vulnerable -- young enough to make Neil feel a bit guilty for the thoughts he has while sitting in the dark auditorium.

It’s just that Olly is strangely beautiful, ethereal even. Everything about him is soft and dream-like. He would be perfect for a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream as one of the manipulative fairies. In fact, Neil wouldn’t be surprised if he’d be playing to type. It would explain a lot about Neil’s current predicament. 

The moment when Olly notices Neil in the crowd is the only time he isn’t absolutely perfect. His face lights up and he smiles, an expression that is entirely out of place in a play about futuristic drug dealers, addicts, and murderers. At least Neil doesn’t have to worry that coming to see Olly perform was a bad idea.

After the show, a red-haired girl with pale skin and eyes approaches him and says, “I’m Elaine. I’ve come to collect you for Olls before he bounces out of his skin.”

Neil’s excited, but he manages to remember to introduce himself and holds his arm out for Elaine to take as they head backstage.

“What is it you do?” Neil asks.

“Hair and makeup,” Elaine says. “I make this lot look pretty.”

“At least you save on work with Olly. He’s pretty just the way he is,” Neil tells her, smiling with all his teeth.

He expects her to laugh, but she gives him a shrewd look instead and says, “Usually that’s true, but someone decided to put a bunch of marks all over his neck yesterday so that took a bit of doing.”

Neil has never in his life wanted a floor to swallow him up more that he wants this floor to swallow him up. Which is ridiculous since he usually enjoys flaunting his sex life and the hot partners he’s sharing it with. It’s the reason he likes making the marks in the first place.

“Sorry?” he says, although he’s not sure he is all that sorry.

“Listen, Olls’s type tends to be fit and charming, which I see you’ve got down fine,” says Elaine. “But they’re also usually knobheads. See that you don’t mess him about or I’ll have you by the bollocks.”

Neil doesn’t quite know how to react to being threatened by a small, feisty redhead but he’s been friends with Grace long enough to know size doesn’t matter much if there’s intent behind the threat. If Grace means to cause you pain, she will. Olly’s Elaine has that same look about her. 

“I’d like to keep my bollocks intact,” Neil says carefully. “I mean… it’s just a date.”

“Until it isn’t,” Elaine says, and then she’s gone, shouting at one of the actresses to sit down so Elaine can take her face off. 

Neil’s left feeling guilty even though he hasn’t done anything. He’s just asked a boy he likes to go out and there’s nothing wrong with that. He doesn’t have enough time to work himself up over it because Olly comes bouncing out of a dressing room in a navy Umbro tracksuit. His outfit shouldn’t be date material, but Olly makes the whole thing work somehow. Neil finds he’s charmed.

“You should have told me you were coming,” Olly says, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’d have put a ticket aside for you.”

“I was afraid you’d tell me not to come,” Neil says. 

“I wouldn’t have. I’m happy you came,” Olly says. “Did you like it?”

This part is easy at least. Neil takes Olly’s hand and says, “I loved it. It was weird and dark and you were amazing. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

It’s the truth and it has the added benefit of making Olly blush all the way to the tips of his ears. He clearly likes being praised because he leans into Neil like a cat looking for affection. Neil’s files that bit of information away for later.

“I believe I was promised some kind of food,” Olly says, hooking his arm through Neil’s and heading toward the exit at the back of the building.

“Wherever you want,” Neil says and lets himself be led.

~~~~

They end up with a couple of slices of shitty pizza instead of kebabs, only because Olly insists he needs grease and cheese to refuel after his performance. Neil usually only eats this type of stuff after going on the lash, but between his own performance and watching Olly’s he’s felt a bit drunk all day. He figures it’s close enough.

“This is terrible but so good,” Olly says between small, precise bites. 

He eats more carefully than Neil, who shoves half the crust in his mouth at once and then can’t answer for half a minute while he tries to get the bread chewed down to a manageable bite.

“I’ll take that as agreement,” Olly says, laughing at Neil as he finally swallows. 

They’ve been walking for a few blocks with no destination in mind, simply enjoying one another’s company and the dry weather for once. When they’ve finished their pizza, Neil takes Olly’s hand and they walk like that. They could be any other couple on the street, even though they’ve only known each other a few days. 

Olly tells him about James and the theatre, how Olly, Mikey, and the fit fellow from the party with the square glasses want to start a band.

“His name is Emre and he’s the cutest, grumpiest old man in a young person’s body. He’s the only one of us who’s got a grown up job so he’s talking about financing things a bit until we can get some gigs,” Olly says.

“Grace and I talk about making music too,” Neil says. “We’ve written a few things. Her boyfriend, Jack, has some ideas for using synths on some classical pieces, but I don’t know how it would be in a band with the two of them dating. It seems a bit dangerous if it doesn’t work out.”

“But what if it does work out? You’d feel a bit stupid if you didn’t try,” Olly says. Then he slaps his free hand over his mouth and gives Neil a wide-eyed look of horror.

He’s so damn cute. If any other person he barely knew told him he was being stupid, he’d get stroppy about it, but Neil finds it very difficult to look at Olly and feel anything but endeared.

“Did you just call me stupid?” he asks.

“It just came out!” Olly’s hand does this little fluttery wave over his head for emphasis. “I just meant your band would be brilliant and you should do it even if Grace and Jack break up and everything ends up horrible. At least you can say you tried.”

Neil’s always been cautious, but he’s drawn to people who aren’t. There’s something beautiful about people like Olly and Grace who are willing to risk pain in order to have an experience. 

“Do you want to come home with me?” Neil asks, pulling Olly close so he can cup his cheek with his free hand.

“Yes, please,” Olly says breathlessly before closing the space and kissing him.

It’s as good as Neil remembers -- even better because now there’s no one here but the two of them, and they know a bit more about one another and they’re both still interested.

Olly shivers when they break apart, breath fogging in the cool air. 

Neil wants to kiss his mouth again immediately, but he also wants to kiss Olly everywhere else and he won’t do that until he gets Olly back to his.

“Let me find a taxi,” Neil says.

Neither of them seems to want to stop looking at the other, but Olly says, “Yes, please,” again and it’s enough to snap Neil out of his daze. He turns to hail a cab.

~~~~

Grace promised she’d stay over at Jack’s so Neil doesn’t waste any time getting Olly into his flat and pinned against the front door. He traces a finger over the bruises on Olly’s neck and says, “I got cursed out for putting these here.”

“I like them,” Olly says, tilting his head back and exposing his neck like an offering. “They make me feel wanted.”

“I do want you,” Neil says. He wants him so badly he doesn’t know where to start, but that lovely neck is right there, tempting him, so he leans in and kisses over the red and purple marks.

Olly’s hands flutter over him, flitting from Neil’s shoulders to his arms to the small of his back like a greedy butterfly that doesn’t know which flower to taste first. “Take off your top,” he says, fingers finally settling at the hem of Neil’s top to tug at it.

Neil lets Olly pull it off and toss it to the floor before he turns back to look his fill. Neil’s always been proud of his body and he’s never had any complaints before, but he finds he’s still holding his breath, waiting to see how Olly will react. 

“You’re so fit,” Olly says as he runs his hands over Neil’s stomach.

Neil pulls down the zip on Olly’s jacket, wanting to see him too. He’s been dying to get to all that pretty, pale skin. The bruises on Olly’s neck are proof of how delicate Olly’s skin is, how easily Neil can mark him up and stake his claim. He wants to leave bruises in the shape of his mouth and his fingers and scratches that match the curve of his nails. It’s almost feral how much he wants Olly.

“Get this off,” Neil says, shoving the jacket from his shoulders. 

Under the jacket Olly’s wearing a thin, white T-shirt. Neil growls, frustrated by all of the unnecessary clothing. He drops to his knees, leaving Olly to deal with his top while Neil makes quick work of his trackies and pants.

Olly’s fully hard already. His cock is red and the head is wet, curving toward the fine hair below his belly button. Neil puts his hand on Olly’s belly and pushes him firmly against the door.

“I’m going to suck you,” he says and waits a few heartbeats for Olly to tell him different.

Olly doesn’t say anything at all, just sucks in breath after breath, and that’s all the encouragement Neil needs to duck his head and take Olly in. 

Neil is good at this. It’s one of the first things he learned to do when he was fifteen and just figuring out he liked boys as much as girls. He went down on one of his mates, loved it so much he came in his pants, and then spent a few weeks afraid he’d done something horribly wrong when his friend avoided him afterward.

Turns out it was his mate who was subpar, not his cock sucking skills.

Neil pulls off and breathes over Olly’s cock, flicks his tongue out over the head and says, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Olly makes a high, tight noise in the back of his throat. He sounds like he’s dying, so Neil licks over him again and then swallows him down until his nose presses into the hair above Olly’s cock.

He’s too good at this to choke, but he thinks he might want to. He thinks he’d like to let Olly fuck his mouth, hold his head back by his hair and just fuck him until Neil loses his control and gags. His head's a mess of _more more more_ and he stays down until his lungs burn with the need to breathe.

“Fuck,” Olly says, petting at Neil’s hair, tracing a finger over the shell of his ear.

“You can pull my hair,” Neil says, voice totally fucked. “I want you to.”

Olly cards his fingers through Neil’s hair and pulls gently. Neil doesn’t want gentle. He wants Olly to feel as frantic as he feels. He wants him to fall apart. He sucks him again, using all his tricks, taking him deep and pulling back to work him with his hand until Olly finally breaks, yanking on his hair until tears spring up in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m gonna,” Olly says and his voice sounds like he’s the one who’s been sucking cock instead of Neil.

It’s so hot and Neil is so hard. He wants to get a hand down his trousers, but he wants it to be Olly’s hand even more. He can wait.

He says, “Do it,” teasing Olly with just the tip of his tongue while using his hand for friction, and Olly throws his head back, knocking it against the door hard.is fingers pull tight in Neil’s hair as his other hand scratches uselessly at the door jamb.

When Olly finally comes, Neil pulls back far enough to catch it on his tongue, making sure Olly watches him through half-slitted eyes when he swallows it down.

“You’re…” Olly says, sliding down the wall onto his knees.

Neil decides speechless is a good look on Olly. Later he’s going to fuck him and see if he can’t make him speechless again, but the situation in his pants is a bit too urgent for that at the moment. 

Olly’s hand flutters up to the corner of Neil’s mouth, then across his bottom lip. Neil licks it. He takes Olly by the wrist and licks there, too, right across the delicate skin over his pulse point. When Neil licks his palm, Olly’s breath hitches. Neil does it again and again.

Olly’s beautiful when he’s turned on. Neil loves the way his features go soft and his cheeks burn hot. 

“You mind if I borrow this?” Neil asks, indicating Olly’s hand.

Olly nods his consent and Neil moves Olly’s hands to the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in his trousers.

That’s the only encouragement Olly needs to take over. He’s on Neil then, pushing away from the wall to kiss him as he works his hand into Neil’s pants.

“My turn,” Olly says, so Neil closes his eyes and lets him have it. 

~~~

Violin, selfies, and sex are Neil’s forte, but he tries to make Olly breakfast anyway. He manages a halfway decent eggy bread with strawberries and maple syrup before he remembers Olly’s a vegetarian. He’s not sure eggs are allowed, but it’s too late to turn back now.

Olly’s awake, scrolling his phone when Neil comes in the room. He stops to smile at Neil, sitting up when he notices the plates Neil’s carrying. 

“I made you eggy bread before I remembered you might not eat them,” Neil admits.

“I do eat them,” Olly says, patting the empty space next to him.

Mornings after are also not on the list of things Neil does well, but he’s determined to put his best foot forward for Olly. He sits close and they eat their breakfast with their elbows knocking together. 

When he’s finished, Olly places his plate on the bed and draws his knees to his chest, resting his head on them. He’s sleepy and soft looking. Neil wants to kiss him so he does, just a soft kiss without any real heat behind it.

Olly sighs and asks, “What are you doing today?”

What Neil would like to do is stay in bed all day. What he’s going to do is get up,meet his sister for a late lunch, and then play another gig Grace has lined up for them.

“I’ve got a lunch and then another gig tonight. You?”

“The play, and then I promised Elaine and some of the others I’d go out with them after. You could meet us if you want to?” Olly says softly, his eyes not quite meeting Neil’s.

They haven’t parted yet and he already wants to see Olly again, so he says, “Okay. It might be late, though.”

He’s going to be exhausted, but it’s worth it to see Olly smile at him. 

~~~~

Their gig is horrible. Grace insists they try a new arrangement for a song they’ve been tinkering with and Neil thinks it’ll sound great eventually, but today it sounds awful. He hates giving a bad performance and he hates going into something unprepared. The whole ordeal puts him in a terrible mood.

“It wasn’t that bad!” Jack says when Neil complains about it afterward.

Neil’s not in the mood for a pep talk, especially when he suspects Jack may be at the root of the new arrangement. He knows Jack and Grace work on things together sometimes, but it’s never bothered him until now.

“It was that bad,” Neil says sharply. “The next time the two of you decide to mess with something make sure you don’t cock it up.”

He gets a petty amount of satisfaction watching Grace’s face get pinched and angry. 

“Stop being a child,” she tells him. “I’m sick to death of you saying you want to make music and finding excuses for why we can’t. Either you’re scared or you’re lazy, but either way it’s time for you to commit to this or I’m going to find someone else who will.”

Grace has never pulled any punches with him. The fact that she calls him out when he’s being difficult or stubborn or just plain wrong is one of the reasons he’s always loved her, but this time he doesn’t hear any of her usual affection in the words and it hurts him more than he cares to admit.

He can’t think of anything else to say, so he says, “Fuck you,” and storms out of the bar like the child she’s just accused him of being.

On the way home he sends Olly a text that says, _Not going to make it out 2nite. Somethings come up. Raincheck?_ and falls asleep before he’s gotten a reply.

~~~~

Neil wakes at an ungodly hour the following morning still feeling terrible. Grace hadn’t come home and there’s still no reply from Olly. He goes for a run to sort himself out, stopping along the path to pet a couple of cute dogs, which goes a long way toward putting him in a better mood.

After a shower, he sends Olly another message saying, _sorry about yesterday. Can I see you 2nite? No show on Mondays right?_ and follows it up with one to Grace that simply says, _sorry. can we talk?_

He gets a text off Olly almost immediately. All it says is _can’t tonight_. Neil spends a solid five minutes twisting himself into knots over those two simple words. He doesn’t know if Olly’s mad about last night and is trying to avoid him, if he really has plans, or if he’s just decided the one time was enough after all. 

They haven’t done much in the way of talking about what happens next. Neil’s not even sure he knows what he wants to happen next, but he does know he really likes Olly and he’s pretty sure Olly likes him, too. 

He throws on joggers and a T-shirt and heads next door, but no one answers. At half nine in the morning, it means Olly’s either ignoring him or he hadn’t come home last night either. Both possibilities make Neil’s stomach roil. 

He pulls his phone out and hovers over the keys, contemplating another message, but he’s not sure what to say or if he should say anything at all. This is why he doesn’t do this with people. Feelings are stupid and complicated and part of him wishes he could go back a week and forget meeting Olly. His life was simpler then.

He’s saved from embarrassing himself even further by Grace coming down the hall. She looks tired and puffy and they stare at each other for a few seconds until Neil opens his arms and Grace throws herself into them.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says into her hair. “I do want to make music with you.”

“I want that too, but things are changing for both of us,” Grace tells him. “I think we need to have that talk.”

~~~~

The talk is actually Grace letting Neil listen to some remixes Jack’s done of a few of their song recordings. They’re incredible. It’s just the kind of thing they’ve been talking about for years, mixing dance and electronic and classical. Neil’s so excited he wants to run circles through the flat.

“Jack’s afraid you don’t like him,” Grace tells him. “Which is will make things difficult if we’re going to ask him to be in our band.”

Grace has a singular talent for bursting Neil’s bubble, but in this instance he can’t blame her. He was a complete wanker last night and he owes Jack an apology.

“I like him fine,” Neil says. “I’m just an arsehole.”

“True, but you can be a fairly charming arsehole when you want to be,” Grace says. “I know it kills you to admit you’re wrong, but an apology wouldn’t hurt.”

“I seem to be doing a lot of apologising lately,” Neil admits.

He hadn’t realised until now just how unhappy he’s been the last few months. It wasn’t some overpowering feeling of misery, but Grace is right when she says things have been changing. He’s felt restless and sad, like he and Grace have been drifting apart since she’s started dating Jack. 

“I feel like I’m losing you,” Neil tells her. “I don’t like things to change.”

Grace rolls her eyes at him and smacks his arm hard enough to sting. 

“You’re not losing me, you twit,” she says. “I’m right here. And besides, some changes are good. What about that fit boy next door you’ve started shagging?” 

Resolving things with Grace had gone a long way toward settling Neil’s stomach, but thinking of Olly makes him anxious all over again.

“I think I may have cocked that up,” Neil says. “I was supposed to meet him last night, but I canceled. I think he’s mad at me.”

“Aw, babes,” she says, pulling him in for a hug. “I know you think you’re no good at relationships, but you’re actually pretty great. We’ve been in a relationship for years and I still love you.”

Neil snorts at that. It’s hardly the same, but he sees her point. There are few people in his life he knows better than Grace, and they still manage to get mixed up sometimes.

Loving people takes work. Neil just needs to decide if Olly’s worth it.

~~~~

The lights go out in the middle of Bake Off which is a problem because Neil sent Olly another text message asking if they could talk and he’s driving himself crazy waiting for a reply.

“Bloody hell,” he says to absolutely no one because Grace pissed off hours ago to see Jack and left Neil to sort himself out.

He’d retreated to his room to feel sorry for himself and that’s where he’s been ever since, watching telly and checking his phone a million times even though he knows he’d have heard if Olly answered him.

His violin is on the table next to his bed. He picks it up, fingers settling into position automatically. Neil can’t remember a time when he didn’t have music in his life, when it didn’t lift his spirits or at least allow him to forget about his problems for a little while. 

He’s feeling better about things with Grace. The two of them never stay mad at one another for very long, but there’s still so much uncertainty about their future. He keeps wondering where they’ll be in a year -- Grace and Jack might get married and start a family. They might finally sit down to write and record songs instead of simply talking about it. 

Everything is changing. Every time Neil looks forward, he thinks about Olly. He imagines introducing Olly to his family and the rest of his friends. He wonders if he could make a relationship last more than a couple of weeks, if anyone would care to try to make it last with him. 

He starts to play Shostakovich's _Largo_ , one of Grace’s favorites. She spent a year in Berlin when they were younger and came home enamoured with all the saddest songs the Soviets had to offer. The piece is heartbreaking. Neil feels like someone’s stepping on his chest.

Over the music he hears a soft _tap, tap, tap_ on the wall and he stops, taking a deep breath. After a moment, he taps back and waits for what feels like an eternity until he gets a message notification that says _come over bring candles_. 

The pressure in his chest eases and he stumbles around his room in the dark trying to pull up the torch app on his phone. Once he’s able to see again, he grabs a few scented candles from around the bath and heads next door.

“I hope you like gingerbread and mulberry,” Neil says when Olly answers the door.

He can’t make out Olly’s face in the dark, but he thinks he might be smiling.

“I prefer pear and apple pie to be honest, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Olly says, moving aside to let him in.

It’s fully dark inside Olly’s flat and the layout is backwards, so Neil almost trips over the lounge table on his way to the sofa. 

“Do you have a lighter?” he asks, startling when Olly appears at his side with a book of matches. 

“Sorry,” Olly says, placing a gentle hand at the base of Neil’s spine. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Neil sighs and lights the two candles. It doesn’t do much to dissipate the dark, but it’s better than nothing. Being with Olly is better than sitting alone in his room and feeling sad, even if things still feel stilted and off between them.

“Are you not going out after all?” Neil asks.

Olly looks confused for a moment and sighs. Neil wishes the sodding electric would come back on so he could see Olly’s face.

“I was never going out,” Olly says. “I thought…”

Neil waits and when it’s clear Olly isn’t going to say anything more, he asks, “You thought what?”

“I know we just met, but I really like you and whenever I really like someone that usually means they don’t like me back,” Olly says. “ My life is like one of those terrible American romantic comedies where the quirky, awkward girl is always dating some loser until she meets _the one_. Only without that second bit.”

“You think I don’t like you?” Neil asks.

“No, I mean the sex part is easy. That’s just chemistry, you know?” 

Neil wants to kill all the Vincents in London -- any man who’s ever made Olly feel like he’s only worth something when he’s on his back. He hates himself for making Olly think he’s one of them.

“Olly,” Neil says, reaching for his hand because without being able to see Olly’s face he needs that connection. “I like you. A lot. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.”

“I just thought when you blew me off yesterday...” Olly says, and his voice is so soft Neil can barely hear him.

“I’m so sorry about that. Grace and I had a terrible row after our gig and I wasn’t fit company. I wasn’t blowing you off,” Neil says. “I’m kind of… I _really_ like you and I’m not sure what that means… I’ve never been anyone’s boyfriend, but I’d like to try to be yours, if you’ll have me.”

Olly sits down on the sofa and laughs, which is not the reaction Neil was hoping for at all.

“I’m sorry,” Olly says, and it’s only then that Neil realizes he’s also crying. 

“Don’t cry, baby,” he says, dropping to his knees next to Olly and taking his hand.

Olly leans into him, laying his head on Neil’s shoulder. 

“I’ve never been anyone’s boyfriend either,” Olly confesses. “No one’s ever wanted me like that before.”

Neil wants him like that. He wants Olly so much.

“I do,” Neil says. “All you have to do is want me back.”

Olly slides off the sofa into his lap and clings to him, hugging him tightly. Neil wants to protect him. Olly makes him feel so much. He hasn’t stopped feeling since they met. 

“I want you back,” Olly says, breath hot against Neil’s neck.

“That’s so good,” Neil says. “Because I’m thinking I might not ever let you go.”

Olly leans back, sniffling a bit, but this close Neil can see his smile in the flickering candlelight. 

“That’s going to be a problem because I kind of need to wee,” Olly says.

Neil smiles back, laughing at how ridiculous they both are. He feels so, so happy.

“I’ll let you up on one condition,” Neil says. “Be my boyfriend?”

Olly says yes.


End file.
